Lucid Dreaming
by Pink Fire Starter
Summary: After NoES1 2. When a withdrawn boy from Westin Hills comes back, a local girl is tasked to strike up a friendship with him. But when people she knows start dying, he confides in her about the Freddy. Now that her little brother's in danger, she and what's left of her friends must stop The Springwood Slasher not only to save him, but to save themselves. Please R&R! Thank you!


Note: I've decided to awaken from suspended animation to give you this. It would be something I would do, starting another fanfiction while I have updated the last one in months. I apologize so much for that, yet the muses are not always kind to me, and inspiration tends to leave me quickly. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have a good and gorey time!

Nightmare on Elm Street © of Newline Cinema and Wes Craven. Original characters belong to me, but the settings are also property of Newline and Craven.

Chapter 1: The Waking World

Springwood, Ohio, 1986

He groaned, rolling himself onto his stomach to not face the snow-white paint and bright rays seeping in from between the shades, wishing to catch at least a good hour more of sleep. It was somewhat humorous in a sense, given that only a good year prior; he would have done everything in his power to stop his eyes from shutting. He shuddered at that prospect, quickly going to work to banish it from his mind. He could not venture there again; he couldn't even view the beginning of that winding road he had been unfortunate to tread down. No, he couldn't let it happen again.

"You awake yet?"

The door to his room creaked open, dispelling the camouflage it kept with the four walls of equally colored paint. The gap widened to let in a middle-aged woman dressed in beige pants and an emerald-colored blouse of silk (at least he assumed it to be), complemented with black high heels. Her long, blonde hair was kept in a neatly done braid that casually draped itself over her shoulder; matching her sharp, yet warm hazel irises.

"Morning, Dr. Quinn." He replied, she taking this as permission to enter.

"Sleep well?"

"Not really well…but I did sleep."

'_It's about time you did, too.'_ she studied the dull, almost empty room to notice a jet-black suitcase stationed in the northwest corner.

"Well, looks like I don't need to ask you to get your stuff ready. You start school tomorrow." she then began to exit, peering over the corner of the door before completely out. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Be dressed by then."

As he heard the click of the door entering the slot, he sat himself up, throwing the equally white covers off his tan skin, the pillow having not done much to his spiked, black hair. Getting to his feet, the chilled tile floors made him quickly rush over to the metal shelves stationed against the wall opposite of his bed, and retrieve a pair of cotton socks. Slipping them on, he quickly sat his set of clothing chosen last night on the unmade bed, the sunlight continuing to ebb through the semi-closed shades.

The world outside was willing to take him back now, back into the mundane and repetitive schedule that this town held with pride. He had managed to escape its 'dirty secret' that had found him, and wished to welcome him back as if nothing ever happened.

Perhaps it was for the best, that he'd follow in that method, putting all the creeping fears and doubts behind him. Starting today, he wouldn't have much other choice. He couldn't look back to the years before he called this place his home, nor could he bring to mind his time here, lest he unleash what had sent him here.

'_No…' _his thoughts echoed, as he was bathed in the warmth of the rays now gracing his body. _'I can't let 'him' in again…'_

*NoES*

She stirred from underneath the covers, eyelids seemly opening against her will, as if some part of her instinctively knew it was crucial she awoke. Lazily swiveling her head to glance at her clock, she immediately was grateful for whatever had aroused her from her sleep.

"7:15? Oh, shit!" she immediately hushed herself, fearing the possibility of her father hearing her more than audible outburst.

Literally leaping out from her blanketed resting place, she darted straight to the bathroom, hurriedly rushing the comb through her short, red hair, and grinding the aged bristles of the toothbrush against her teeth. Making her way back to her room, she stopped upon seeing another figure in her room. Slightly heavy and displaying signs of age, his warm, brown eyes and curled, brunette hair atop his scalp dispersed her worry.

"Dad? What are you still doing here?"

"What do you mean, honey? It's your first day of school!"

Her father being here at this hour threw her off enough, but the claim of it being her first day cemented it in her mind that something was amiss. Kindergarten started in 1973, and after this year, she would be ending her years in school altogether.

"Dad…I turned seventeen in June! I'm going to be a senior this year!"

He began to chuckle at her, humoring her as if she just told him a joke. "You can play 'Grown Ups' with your friends. It's time to get ready!"

Going to her closet, he brought out a petite, white dress with a laced collar and equally white sash serving as the 'belt'.

"Your mother picked this out. She knew you'd love it!"

"GOOD MORNING, SPRINGWOOD!"

She leapt up at the radio's loud declaration, quickly thrusting down the switch on the alarm. Upon silence once again consuming the area around her, her eyes began to survey and study it. Her father was gone, presumably gone to Westin Hills for his day shift.

'_Well, I guess it settles whether or not that was real. But…'_

Going over to the closet and opening the fold-in door, as she suspected, she found no such dress inside. Though expected, the discovery brought his words back, her confused state of mind turning forlorn.

'_Mom probably would have picked something like that out…'_

She forced herself out of that state of mind, reminding herself that despite the strangeness she had witnessed, in reality, she was still on the clock.

'_Speaking of which…' _she gazed over towards the digital clock placed on the drawer sitting next to her messily made bed.

"7:15…well, why not?"

A pair of denim overalls and a white t-shirt was thrown on the bed, their owner making her way to the bathroom.

'_Fourth dream I've had with that dress…but it's the first time mom was mentioned…'_

*NoES*

Here he had been thinking that the possibility of ever riding on a bus to school would never happen to him again, yet in the near back of the long vehicle, he sat. Idle and alone, yes, but he was still there. Though this indeed meant the regular responsibilities of homework and notes were brought into his life again, he was thankful for their annoyances, in a sense. At least it gave him the comfort that his life was getting back on track.

'_That's definitely a summer vacation I'd never do again.'_

No, he couldn't afford to let memories of that time surface. Not unless he was willing to risk it happening again. His mental practice sessions were being tested due to the sudden change, but he knew that he couldn't afford to falter. Dr. Quinn had put her confidence in him, and allowed for his life to resume itself. Yes that was it; his life to resume, and to continue…while still alive.

That would begin now, as the screech of the bus's wheels signified to all aboard that they had arrived. Lifting himself up and tossing his backpack's loose straps over his shoulders, and filed out with the rest of those adding to the population of students attending this morning. He moved forward, the building of brick before him collecting its soon to be regular occupants, he felt his leg unexpectedly give way from under him, his knees hitting the ground and forcing his hands to extend outward to support himself. Looking behind him upon the growing sound of snickers and snide comments at his 'trip', he cursed himself upon seeing that he didn't even notice the risen concrete separating the school grounds from the road.

"Hey, you okay there?"

Looking up, he was met with the owner of the voice; a young woman with layered red hair that reached nowhere lower than her jawline, a headband tied around to reveal the knot where it ended on the top-right. She wore a simple, white t-shirt underneath denim trousers that ended at her knees, and a pair of Converse tennis shoes with simple, cotton socks. During the few seconds he observed her, what drew him in further was the piercing stare of her teal colored eyes, almost as if she was silently searching through his mind to bring out anything hidden.

"You all right?"

*NoES*

She had begun to think that something was indeed wrong with him, yet he quickly rose to his feet, gripping the loose straps and pulling them forward.

"Y-yeah. Fine."

"You sure? You need me to-"

"I'm fine."

Turning away from her, he dashed off towards the building.

'_Ugh. Gee, you're welcome, guy.' _

She headed off in the same direction, her mood becoming a little sour. She didn't know him, of course, but she also didn't have to go over and see if he was all right. No, she wasn't expecting a reward or lavish praises, but a display of some gratitude wasn't too much to ask for, she thought.

'_Nothing wrong with a simple "thank you", you know? Well, it's my first day, and I shouldn't be spending it thinking about somebody I met this morning.'_

To her annoyance, however, by the time third period ended, she hadn't managed to be rid of him, as she saw him pass through the door to join Mr. Jackson's Economics class, taking his seat and keeping his eyes directly ahead of him. As the rest of the class began to file in through the door to join in before Mr. Jackson began his one of many "riveting and life-changing" lectures of the year, she couldn't help to study him from afar, as their previous encounter had only lasted a few seconds.

He seemed to be of Filipino descent, his skin a tan, honey color, and his black hair either combed back, or being gifted with a natural cowlick. He wore an equally black shirt that seemed to constrict against his form, somewhat well built, and a pair of jeans displaying signs of their age and mostly hiding his black Nikes from view as they draped over them. His head began to turn in her direction, she quickly shifting her hers to not draw his attention.

"Do you want something?"

The plan failed.

"Uh…n-no. Sorry."

"Well, good morning, everyone!"

Their attention diverted from each other to Mr. Jackson, who was fuddling with a slip of blank paper and a pencil.

"While I do respect and give no shortage of praise to my fellow instructors…" he then preceded to tear the paper in half and crumble it tightly, throwing it into the small bin next to his desk. "I find it unfortunate that the simple practice of introduction has been reduced to writing your name on a piece of paper. So, to begin our year together, I want everyone to state their name, and one aspect about you. Let's start with…" his eyes shifted from underneath his thick glasses. "You." He stated, pointing to the desk in the first row to the left.

A young woman stood up out of her chair, her blonde, feathered hair bouncing for a moment upon her sudden movement. Wide-eyed and a smile plastered onto her youthful features, she blinked her chocolate brown eyes before finding the words she wanted to share.

"Yeah, hi! My name's Leslie Gardner, and I want to set up a dance studio when I get the money for it." She sat herself back down.

"Interesting goal, Ms. Gardner. Maybe you could set us up one here in Springwood? Well, your turn."

As each student rose, spoke, and sat back down, she couldn't help to become more interested her subject, anxious in what he would have to say. Eventually, his turn came, a sigh escaping his lips as he rose.

"I'm Robby Martin…and I'm starting the twelfth grade."

"Oh come on! That can't be all." Mr. Jackson exclaimed, the other students also beginning to encourage him to give them something more.

"Fine. I like puzzles." He sat himself back down instantly.

Mr. Jackson seemed somewhat unsatisfied with his answer, but sensed that it was all he would probably get out of him. The introductions continued until it reached her, she following suit as those before her.

"Hello, my name's Vanessa Dutch, and I hope to one day own a restaurant or bakery."

*NoES*

Robby felt the entire exercise pointless, and a waste of time, yet he couldn't help but admire her utmost confidence in herself, speaking as if she had total control of everything around her; utmost confidence that had been drained out of him. As he predicted, the introductions took up almost all of the class that coupled with Mr. Jackson's speech about how he wanted to dispel the image of Economics being "boring", and other happy-go-lucky phrases and sayings that it so tempting to go up and wring his neck. Of course, being that school was meant to draw out their day for as long as possible, perhaps third period was a blessing in disguise.

Lunch came quick today, he taking a spoonful of hash browns and a few French toast sticks, and taking a seat at a table near the back.

"Hi there."

Looking up, he was greeted with the sight of Leslie from Mr. Jackson's class, chipper and full of sunshine.

"Uh…hi. Can I help you?"

"Well, there's plenty of tables with available seats, and you're going to just sit here alone?"

"I'm fine with it. Besides, it's not like I know anybody."

"So…" leaning forward, she wrapped herself around his arm, pulling him forward and forcing him to let go of his stationary tray. "That's why you are going to get acquainted!"

Dragging him behind her, she didn't take him far from where he was as someone deliberately stood in front of them to block their way. He was rather tall and built, his chin meeting Robby's forehead, and had a head of blonde hair equal in tone to Leslie's, save for it being kept in a buzz cut. A stern expression was cemented into his features, his cloudy, blue eyes giving off a commanding stare. The school's team jacket overlay his grey shirt, Robby hypothesizing that he was part of the football team, or at least some athletic representation for the school.

"Leslie…" he sighed, "I think he wants to be left alone. Besides, I heard Jeff's been thinking about calling you."

"And I've told YOU, Derek, that Jeff hasn't officially broken up with Hailey! And no, Parker hasn't called me back either!" she gripped Robby's arm tighter. "All I was doing was just showing him that we had room!"

"Did he say he wanted to go to your guy's table?"

"Didn't YOU say that it's good team spirit to make sure no one's left out?"

"Look, it's not a problem, man." Robby interrupted, the two's bickering halting at his statement.

Leslie gave Derek a triumphant and vexing smile. "See?"

He continued to eye them, not convinced of Robby's sudden willingness to give in to her demands.

"Are you sure? You're not the first I've had to tell her to leave alone."

"Hey!"

"No, it's fine. I don't really care."

He sighed, stepping aside and allowing the girl to continue to drag Robby along to wherever she planned on taking him.

"Hey, sorry about that. He thinks every boy I talk to, I'm desperate to hook up with. Big brother is watching, you know?" Leslie told her 'captive'.

"Well, do you?" he bluntly asked, expecting at least some retaliation, yet that same smile remained on her face.

"Only if they're nice." She moved in closer to him. "So please, don't break my heart, okay?"

A giggle escaped her lips upon seeing his tanned cheeks flush. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Geez, you're too serious!"

He felt his company slow her speed, soon stopping completely at a table with three other occupants. One of which had familiar short, red hair, and was busy chewing up a French toast stick.

*NoES*

If she hadn't already swallowed the thick, syrupy bread previously stuffed in her cheeks, she would've had an excuse to not pay Leslie's new company any mind, yet the baritone voice of her father's voice reminding her to greet whomever she met when she was young rang through her mind.

"You've always known how to get them to tag along, haven't you, Leslie?" the girl seated beside her teasingly asked.

"Thank you, ever so much, for your delightfully uplifting comments, Kathy." The blonde-haired girl remarked, finally releasing Robby's arm from her grip.

"Uh, what was your name, again?"

"…Robby."

"Ah. Guys, this is Robby. Robby, this is Wendy…" she motioned towards the one who previously spoke, her hazelnut hair curled under and meeting her jawline, and clothed in a green shoulder shirt and pair of shredded jeans.

"Hey there."

"Delia…" a girl with dirty-blonde hair straightened and curling up at her shoulders, touching her red blazer and complementing her black skirt, waved to them.

"How do you do?"

"And this here is Vanessa…" upon hearing her name, she made eye contact with Leslie's newest 'eye candy', a smile not at all large, but noticeable curling onto her lips.

"I think we've already met, but still, hello." With that, she felt the need to finish off the rest of the French toast stick.

"If you want me to sit here, can I at least go get my tray?" he asked, eying Leslie and not putting much effort in hiding his annoyance.

"Oh! Yeah, sure! Sorry!" she giggled, humoring herself in her forgetfulness.

He took this moment to seemly make his escape, rushing away from them all. The blonde, perky girl sat down in beside Delia, Vanessa still puzzled in why she was so persistent in getting on good terms with him.

"You just couldn't resist, could you, Les?" Delia inquired, putting the clear straw to her lips, it soon becoming clouded with milk.

"You guys seriously don't believe that I could invite someone over because I felt sorry for them that they were all alone?" "Well, in all fairness, you kept trying to get me to sit with you last year." Vanessa replied.

"Ha! See?! Nessie here has faith in me!"

"And I did only because you wouldn't stop until I finally came over."

Her zealous mood instantly died. "You bitches." She crossed her arms, pouting for a few moments until she felt it necessary to drop the act. "But…do you think he's cute?"

"Don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

Without a word, he, going in between his newfound admirer and the equally quiet redhead, occupied the empty seat.

"Oh! Heh, he-hello."

"Hi." He simply muttered, setting down his tray and going to work on finishing up what was left.

"Geez, you eat fast. Guess that's a guy thing, right?"

"That, and it's nearly sixth period."

Everyone's eyes glanced over at the large clock hung on the north wall, everyone soon following him in a familiar fashion, and quickly dispensing the trays before rushing out of the lunchroom.

*NoES*

"So, while the art of pastels are indeed a good way to have an excuse to replace the carpet, it is one of the oldest, and can be one of the most beautiful methods of illustration."

Vanessa was skeptical at first, but now it seemed that the powers that be were definitely at work to keep her in close vicinity to "Mystery Boy" opposite of her seat on the bar table. Mrs. Kesler had planned to display various past works from both the junior and intermediate classes she taught in the past, yet the same person, as she observed, had done a handful of them. She glanced over the sign-in sheet, and her aged, wrinkled, pale face lit up as she turned her attention to a young girl sitting on the end of the bar.

"Well, I guess you could serve as my apprentice for this project, couldn't you, Desiree?"

Vanessa's attention was shifted to the said "prodigy", whose small smile she presented to Mrs. Kesler was kept even as she noticed the growing number of eyes on her and her obvious signs of discomfort.

Mrs. Kesler must've sensed this, as she immediately called for everyone's attention. Yet that didn't stop Vanessa from keeping focus on her; the girl in question had black, long hair with neatly trimmed bangs, with two strands kept in front, hiding her ears. Her eyes appeared to be large and open, two amber eyes absorbing the environment around them. In fact, everything else on her face seemed demure and small compared to them, almost mimicking a more youthful age perfectly. She wore a baby blue t-shirt, and what appeared to be a skirt with bright pink, tropical flowers and palm trees. That smile was still carved into her features, yet it was clear to see that she was still rather nervous, almost akin to the behavior of an obedient pet: despite personal discomfort, it still persisted in it's task for the sake of pleasing their master. Curiously, around her neck rested two chains with separate halves of the same heart on each one. The other was usually meant for another person, yet she decided to wear both of them, yet Vanessa couldn't ponder a reason for it.

"Go out and pick out your pastel packs! And I expect them to be turned in at least a usable condition by the end of the year!"

Vanessa soon found herself to be the only sitting at the bar; all the while everyone else was making their way over to the supply cabinets. The cabinets were lined up against the wall after they had made a curve, so the area in between was not the most spacious place to be, especially for a crowd of eager students.

Desiree was amongst the crowd, near the back and staying near the back, yet also trying to get in through to snag a decent pack of the chalk-based utensils. Someone behind her seemed to have lost his footing, for as soon as she had retrieved a pack of pastels; the not so coordinated individual fell into her when she had just turned around. The impact was imminent, and the result inevitable.

Both went down on the floor, the pastels escaping their containment, and hitting the wall, leaving small, colorful marks.

"Sorry! You okay?"

A few groans came from her fallen form, she working her way to her feet, her eyes inexplicably turning to the wall. She saw them; the marks were from her pastel pack. Her already big eyes widened, openly displaying fear at what was thought to be a simple and likely accident.

"Are you okay?" the one whom had fallen into her asked again, seeing as she had become unresponsive to him and everyone else entirely.

"What happened?" Mrs. Kesler's voice rang out, gaining her attention.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she cried out, quickly retrieving some paper towels over by the sink used to wash off brushes, wetting them, and scrubbing furiously against the tiny dots of chalk.

"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry, ma'am! I'm sorry!"

"It's fine! It's fine! Look, you've already gotten it off!"

She stopped for a moment to see her efforts had been successful, as the colored stains were reduced to non-existence. She moved away from the wall, carefully scooping up the chalk sticks back into the box, and took her seat.

"Right, so three pieces done with pastels due by the end of the month. Given the long period, I expect quality work from you."

Seeing that the area was fit for her to look through without anyone pushing on her, Vanessa went over to claim herself a pack. As she made her way over, her eyes caught sight of the longhaired Desiree, a melancholy look in her features. She stopped in her tracks, instinct kicking in for her and compelled her to make her way over to her.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

She would have said more, but the stoic expression she had told Vanessa that she wanted to be left alone. In a sense, she seemed to be ashamed for her behavior, almost as if the seemly unconscious response was by her own will.

*NoES*

"So why hasn't Parker called you back?" Wendy asked, Leslie shrugging in response.

"Could be you scared him off." Delia jabbed, silently complementing herself as the blonde girl's bottom lip popped out and her arms crossed her chest.

Vanessa couldn't help but glance over at the three, subconsciously rolling her eyes at their conversation. It was amusing how idealistic and childish they could be at their age. Never having to take into account the existence of any responsibilities outside of their own world, no need to schedule out any time taken from required education, or think of what to do to feed those at home with the available ingredients.

'_No. You don't have to worry about that for awhile.'_

She was thrust out of her pondering by the screech of the wheels, signaling that she had come to her stop. Grabbing her bag and making her way onto the aged sidewalk lining the suburban dwelling from the road, she caught a glimpse of tan skin coming up beside her.

"This your stop, too?" she asked, Robby nodding in response.

"Well, you going to tell me where you live? Or is that more information you'd like to keep secret?"

"Where do you live?"

"I asked you first."

"I might be near you. So where is it?"

His red haired company motioned towards the end of the street. "Last house of the left. Your turn, now."

He pointed to the opposite side of the street. "Over there. It's the house behind the one that's facing yours."

"Wait, isn't that Ms. Quinn's place? I didn't know she had any kids." He shook his head. "No, she isn't my mom. But I am living with her for now."

"So, who are-"

"It's not important. Don't ask."

His eyebrows furrowed upon revealing that information, yet she couldn't discern why. Ultimately, it wasn't any of her business, so she decided to not pry any further.

"It's fine. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'm sorry I pushed you too far."

"…Bye." With that, Robby left Vanessa in front of her house, crossing the road to the house she couldn't see.

Vanessa couldn't be angry as she expected that sort of behavior, yet that didn't translate to it being all right with her.

'_He wants to fill the anti-social profile, fine with me. Not like I should care.'_

After all, she knew, that what would transpire when she entered through her door would be of far more concern than an almost non-speaking individual who she inexplicably had to cross paths with today.

Her house, while not the most upstanding display of small town suburbia, was of decent size and condition. Two stories, including the basement and garage, decked in white paint, and a flat, black tile roof that had protected her from every freak blizzard or booming thunderstorm it had come across. Stepping through the grey door, she made her way to her room to release the bag from her shoulders, and lay her homework out to get it over with. In her case, finding square roots and multiplying them as exponents was far less daunting than figuring out what to do for dinner. Though grueling, she had managed to eventually complete the required pages of calculation instructions and equations, closing the book and slipping it back into her backpack. She was rather surprised at her speed today, as she usually managed to only get halfway done before-

"Hey, Nessie! You up there?"

Halting the beginning of popping in a cassette tape in her Walkman, she lifted herself from her bed to meet the familiar individual calling for her. Standing in front of the door was a young man caught directly in between the years of childhood and the conceived notion of a teenager, curled brown hair growing out of the top of his head. Her shared the same blues eyes as her, and was clothed in a casual green, striped shirt overlaid with a brown, short-sleeved jacket, and complemented with a pair of beige pants.

"Where else would I be?" she answered, he making his way over to the couch. "Good day for you, Davey?"

"David. I swore off that name the second I hit thirteen."

She ruffled through his hair, he immediately pushing her teasing fingers away. "I let you call me Nessie, so it's only right you are given the same treatment. Anyway, how was today? Good?"

"Not really, being that it's the start of this year's torture."

Well, he was half right. Going over to the kitchen, she opened the fridge to survey the current selection of today.

"Hey, how about…" her eyes darted to a pack of beef franks and array of peppers sitting in the corner of the fridge. "Sausage stir fry?"

"What happened to you doing meatloaf?"

"Dad forgot the onions and ketchup, and it doesn't help that the meat got freezer burn. So it's processed beef and peppers bathed in oil tonight."

*NoES*

Removing her glasses and setting down her book, her long hours of mental preparation were to be tested as Robby made his way through the door.

"Hello, Robby. Is it three already? Guess I lost track of the time."

Saying nothing, he set down his bag and took a seat on the aged, striped couch. "Hello, Doctor."

"I told you, you're out of the hospital now. There's nothing wrong with calling me Lucille."

He remained silent, her experience alerting her that a few moments of silence would be the best course to take before opening a dialogue with him again. She sat there idle, yet poised for whenever he felt it necessary to reveal the details of his day to her. She didn't have to wait long, as only a few brief moments passed before he openly spoke with her again.

"I met the girl living behind you."

"Oh, Vanessa? I'm surprised that you've only gotten to meet her now, considering how much Phil talks about her and David."

His eyes lit up in shock. "She's Phil's kid?"

"Mm hm." Lucille paused, as she brought her curled fingers to her lips in thought. "Which might be a blessing in disguise for the both of you."

His face, previously smooth as stone, felt panic begin to seep in. "W-what do you mean?"

"Well, Phil told me that he's becoming a little worried about how she's mainly at home most of the time, and she doesn't get out much with her friends. Seeing as how it's been awhile since you've been in this neighborhood, maybe you two could get to know each other. Maybe she could show you around, or-"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

She predicted he'd say that. She lifted herself from the warm chair she occupied for most of the afternoon and went over to the couch, standing over him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her, his expression forlorn.

"I don't expect you to forget what happened. No one could ever forget something like that. But I don't believe that means you have to keep reminding yourself about it everyday."

He took a few moments to ponder her words. If anything could be said, her profession was indeed well chosen. Perhaps, it was time to start repairing and becoming familiar with what had been his former life. After all, how long had he known her since he was first admitted to Westin Hills? It's been a year since then, and she hasn't dropped dead yet. The other possibility could've been that he had began to bore his tormenter, which would've explained the number of patients dealing with 'insomnia' and other sleep-related issues.

"Adjustments are never quick, but they eventually do happen. But nothing's going to change until you take that first step."

"I know that." He turned away from her. "I just want to know if it's safe."

*NoES*

"I swear, I think I birthed the next Julia Child!" he cried out, stabbing the leftover fried frank and peppers to finish them off.

"Well, I don't know about that. I'd say this is more in the line of Paula Deen. I don't know a thing about French food." Vanessa retorted, yet humoring her father in his overly high praises that parents love to dote their children with.

"Well, I don't care where it's from, as long as it's by you, it'll be amazing. I can see it now: Dutch's Home-style Cooking, or Dutch's Soul Food." He dramatically exclaimed, both she and David slightly embarrassed.

The young boy rose to throw away the paper plate and go back to whatever activity he kept himself entertained with for the night. After disposing of his plate as well, Phil snagged his daughter by the shoulder before she could retreat back to her room.

"Hey, did you meet the kid living with Dr. Quinn? Robby, wasn't it?"

"Oh, him. Yeah, I met him this morning."

"Well, not that you have to, but he's new around here, and being that we live so close…"

"I should try to get him aquatinted with the place? No offense, Dad, but Leslie and I tried and he doesn't seem interested."

"Dr. Quinn did tell me he's been cooped up in Westin Hills for awhile…"

She stopped him. "Wait, he's from that old asylum?"

Phil went over to the medicine cabinet, grabbing a bottle half full with large capsules. Vanessa couldn't help but feel a knot growing inside as he assisted the capsule's journey down his esophagus with a gulp of water.

"Sorry. I should've done something different, being that the doctor's been on your case about cholesterol."

"He just told me to cut back a little bit, it's nothing life threatening." He leaned in closer to her. "But thanks. Look, I know with school staring up again, for both you and David, you probably have a lot of things going on. If you can't-"

"I'll try to get him to open up. Even if I have to drag him around handcuffed to me." The redhead gave a parting glance to her father as she made her way to prepare for her nightly retreat. Phil placed the bottle back into the cabinet, and made his way over to the sink to refill his empty cup.

"Just like your mom, Nessie. I guess in a way in a way…" he muttered, looking towards the two door perpendicular to each other down the hall, eyeing the right that led to his son's room. "That's exactly what he needs. What he has to have now."

Before retiring to his bedroom as well, Phil took a small glance at the small, framed portrait placed on the end table beside the couch. The photo presented him at a younger (and somewhat thinner) stage of his life, his hand resting on the shoulder of a woman with medium, messy hair mimicking Vanessa's color perfectly. She was garbed in a hospital gown, and in her arms rested a small, newborn infant, seemly at peace despite the ever-present excitement and joy the energetic young girl was displaying, and the length of her hair similar to what it was now.

After the routine of dental care and picking out an outfit for tomorrow, Vanessa slipped on her sea-green nightshirt, the large opening for her head to come through allowed the shirt's rim to touch her shoulders and cover the cotton grey shorts she wore underneath it. She quickly retreated to her bed and pulled up the covers because of the sudden chill she caught from the lack of material covering her body, her head burying itself in the pillow. The light off and the room slowly absorbing the calming silence, Vanessa soon found it irresistible to not comply with it as well, as she allowed herself to gradually slip away from consciousness and let sleep fully take her.

Note: I usually don't care for exposition, but it's necessary so that the juicier parts are even better. I don't think I'm extraordinarily good, but I want to do my best in everything I do, which is also why it takes me so long to do anything. Anyhow, I hope with all the needed details out of the way, I can start slicing and dicing these people. Just kidding. Please review and critique! Thank you.

Nightmare on Elm Street © of Newline Cinemas and Wes Craven.


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